#you could help disturbed orphans like kaiba

[ygodominos]

Chapter 1: The F*ckening @ Somerfields

Bakura and Melvin make a mess and the whole village gets caught up in the escapade.

Work sucked, and I mean /sucked/ for Bakura. Just what he wanted: repetitive 9 hour shifts with short breaks and bitchy customers. No wait, bitchy dumb customers. One woman tried to shoplift some cans of soda, so naturally when Bakura spotted her he threatened to smash her face into the window. He spent the next hour in the managers office, “apologising” for terrifying the other customers. Apparently people don’t like to see shop workers screaming at customers. Tch.

3.30pm. Break. Thank fuck.  Slumping outside, taking a cigarette from his pocket, he greets Melvin at their usual spot behind the supermarket, hidden from those irritating CCTV cameras that just loved to rat him out to his boss. Melvin was already at the end of his cigarette, narrowed violet eyes glared as the albino man approached, holding the gaze until they were side by side leaning on the brick wall. 

“You’re late.” A growl laced with tobacco shot at the shorter man. 

“Apparently me wearing a coat over my uniform whilst I try and leave through the back door isn’t enough a big enough indicator to customers that I’m not on fucking shift anymore,” The lighter clicks as the tip of Bakura’s cigarettes is swallowed in flames. “fucking idiots”.

Another click fills the silence as Melvin lights his second, “I hear ya, that’s why I stick to boxes. Boxes can’t fuck me off like people.” 

A low chuckle and a slight head tilt of the pale man caught Melvin’s eye as violet met deep red.  “Oh, but we know exactly what boxes are good for, don’t we?”

It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Melvin and Bakura to screw on the delivery boxes on their break. They didn’t have much else better to do, and it wasn’t exactly like either were the romantic type to attract a partner. It passed the time and gave them both a chance to exert their anger out on each other rather than an unlucky customer trying to return an open can of tuna because it had ‘the wrong water’ in it. Eugh. Bakura put his mind elsewhere as he sucked the last of the nicotine from the retched fag-end before he joined Melvin in the warehouse for a “quickie” before they both had to return to the evil called ‘work’.

The next morning as Bakura approached Somerfields he was somewhat surprised at the two large black vans in front of the store. He paused momentarily, staring at a lanky figure with a briefcase and a sour face entered through the glass doors. Shrugging, Bakura carried on trudging, realising he was about 5 minutes late but lacked the ability to care. 

Before he had the chance to change his boss called him upstairs to the meeting room. Upon entering, he immediately recognised the sour-faced-lanky-briefcase-douche from earlier, along with all of the other staff members, even the ones who weren’t on the rota for today. Interesting. He settled in the furthest seat from the front so he could ignore whatever lecture his boss had arranged. Hand under chin and elbow on desk he focused his attention on the window, imagining he were anywhere else but he-

“Oi you. In the back.”

Red slit eyes rolled to catch harsh blue. Ah, briefcase douche has blue eyes. How pretty. 

“Pay attention when someone is speaking.” 

“Do you keep anything interesting in that briefcase of yours, or just your crippling need to be the centre of attention?” He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into the side of his skull, but he didn’t care. He didn’t like this sour faced man, and would be more than happy to make it known to him. 

A cool smile tinged with cynicism fired right back at Bakura. “I’m glad you asked,” Great, he’s sarcastic too, “actually, I do have something in this briefcase that may interest one or two of you in this room. My name is Seto Kaiba, and I’m the head of the Forensics Department a short while away.

It’s been reported over the last few months that there have been some...incidents in the warehouse area.”

Bakura tensed slightly, narrowing his eyes further as he began to figure out why this meeting was called. 

“It wasn’t until last night where some actual, ahem, evidence was left at the scene that I was called in.  So, I’ll put it blankly: whoever has been fucking on the Foxy Boxes Delivery boxes, just know that we’ve got your DNA and it’ll only be a matter of time before we get access to your records and are authorised to take DNA samples from each of you. Of course you could just own up now and I can arrange your arrest right now, but where would be the fun in that? It won’t be long now until you’re fucked, again.”

After ignoring his phone buzzing in his back pocket for the past ten minutes, Melvin gave in and pulled it out. 12 missed calls from Bakura. Hm. Before he could call back, however, his caller ID flashed up again as it now turned into 13 calls. 

“What?!” he snarled, angry at being disturbed on his day off. 

“Melvin, we have a problem. Meet me at the coffee shop, order something strong. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” the dial tone was the only thing Melvin could hear other than his own confused thoughts at Bakura’s cryptic and somehow threatening phone call. 

To be continued